1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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